Stripes of Gehenna Page 4

  I collapsed onto the front steps. My whole body started shaking. The world spun around me. Shardul. Missing.

  I don’t even remember how long it took for the police cars to pull up. I told them a hundred times, that I’d seen him in the parking lot, walking toward his car on Friday.

  And here we were, already Wednesday.

  “The school called and told us the trip was extended!” Shardul’s mom shouted again.

  The police promised to look for his car. They sent a unit to the airport to check cameras. They tried to figure out where the call came from, telling Shardul’s mom that the trip was extended.

  But a week later, they still couldn’t find his car. They couldn’t find anything.

  I spent the week sick in bed, not even caring what it would do to my GPA. None of that mattered. Not with Shardul missing. They said he probably ran away, since 18-year-old boys don’t usually get abducted.

  I didn’t believe that at all. But I didn’t know what to believe happened to him.

  Shardul was gone and my mom said I should really go back to school. Try and get back into my routine. But Shardul was gone. I mean really gone. I didn't hear so much of a whisper from the investigators. And it surprised me how much that hurt.

  Two weeks later, I’ll pulled myself together. I’d seen Shardul without a shirt. He would have been able to fight off any abductors. And since his car was gone too, maybe he had just taken an extended vacation. I had to tell myself that in order to function.

  I aced my classes. Pulled a few pranks just to stop being seen as a total nerd. And in general, things were pretty boring. Most scholarships don't get granted unless you apply for them, and while Shardul was gone, I still competed with his memory.

  I spent hours filling out applications for scholarships and reading about possible majors. Though I'd known for years that I would be a scientist, I didn't have any specifics narrowed down yet. Ivy League schools were my first picks. Harvard and Princeton have good science undergrad programs.

  I checked my email twice a day, hopeful that I’d get at least an email from his mom, or the investigators, or even him. Maybe a daily quote, or a reminder to stay humble intellectually. But I got nothing. Nothing from Shardul. He had disappeared.

  Chapter Five: Immediate Family

  Both of our emotions were high when I hugged my mom goodbye. New Guinea. I couldn’t believe I was really going. She cried and I tried not to, but I did anyway, even in the public eye of airport security.

  "Be careful and don’t trust him," she instructed.

  "How can I not trust him? I have to. If I didn’t trust him, then I wouldn’t go." Trust was not my forte. She should have encouraged me to trust. If not family, then who?

  "Then don’t go!" she urged.

  "Mom, my mind is made up. I promise to be careful. Besides, it’s just for a week."

  "You better be careful!" She hugged me and I knew I’d miss her more than was age-appropriate.

  My dad didn’t say much about the trip my uncle proposed. He was a big fan of letting me make my own choices and dealing with the consequences. I knew he didn’t love the idea though, because he wasn’t encouraging me.

  Shardul would have been happy for me. Or jealous. I don’t know if he thought of everything as a competition like I did. I tried to just picture him as a rival. The rest of the emotions I felt for him had to be buried. As well as the concern I had for his safety.

  That must be how I developed the complex of outdoing everyone. That must be why I was interested in my uncle. He had somehow managed to be good looking, smart and talented. I admired him. When Uncle Richy extended a personal invitation to me, it not only validated my maturity, but it piqued my curiosity about him.

  And now I had the opportunity.

  The chatter of voices frantic for flight changes mingled with the frequent announcements made on the intercom only added to my anxiety. I was not a frequent flier and the hustle and bustle was worse than Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve. I would know. That’s where I’d done my shopping a few months back. I walked behind my uncle as he parted the crowds with his huge shoulders, wondering whether he had his shoes custom made for his gigantic feet.

  The last few days had been a whirlwind of packing, unpacking, repacking, arguing with my mom, attempting to make amends, and then fighting again. I suppose it was her love for me that pushed her to be so intensely opposed to my trip with Richy. While there were definitely parts of me that feared my uncle, and the unknown of the world, I had to go. Opportunities are so fleeting and I knew that some distance from everything would surely be therapeutic as I considered which university to attend.

  And maybe it would help me stop thinking about Shardul.

  Even if it didn’t pan out to be as academic of a trip as Richy had made it seem, a vacation was much needed after the intensity of homework, finals, and working part-time.

  The airport announcements interrupted my nostalgia, and I shook my head as if to dispel emotions. I was a scientist, not a thespian.

  "I’m glad that your dad finally let you decide," Richy said, gruffly. He carried my two suitcases and his small travel bag in one hand, the tickets in the other. They had barely stayed under the 50-pound limit, but he swung the bags around as though they were filled with helium and lifted on their own accord. His hands were so large that they made the handles seem as fragile as tiny twigs in the strength of his fingers.

  "Well, I guess things worked out," I said, scratching my shoulder. I should have worn more comfortable shoes. The flat soles made my arches ache and we were only beginning our very long trip.

  I had concern about what lay ahead in what was often called "The Lost World." Not full-fledged regret, because I would have accepted the invitation again, but I was very uneasy and wished that my mother hadn’t been so upset about the whole thing.

  We got to our terminal and I sat in the burgundy padded chairs, knowing that we had a good 50 minutes before we would board. He went to a bar and returned with a whole bottle of vodka. All for himself. I don’t know how he did it, since I was pretty sure drinking laws are very strict, especially in airports. How did he get the bar tender to let him take the whole thing?

  "Um, thanks for inviting me." Was it appropriate to talk to him? What questions should I ask? Should I ask any at all? I crossed my legs and then uncrossed them. What was the mature way to send the nonverbal message that I was confident and mature? As much as I wanted to deny it, his hugeness made me feel weak and insecure. His wrist was so big around that the watch had to have several extenders to enable it to fasten. Even his face was large and his jaw looked strong enough to bite clean into a coconut shell.

  He didn’t fit in the seat, so he just stood over me, looming like a shadow of a monster. I realize that’s kind of a dark image to describe my own flesh and blood, but there was no happy way to put it. He was large and mysterious to me.

  "Don’t worry; I booked two seats for myself on the flight. I told them to plan on my weight as well." He chuckled, deep and throaty. "I said, ‘Plan for a gorilla-sized man!’. They thought I was joking but I wasn’t. I weigh almost 400 pounds." He bragged about his weight. It made me feel better about my own, though I still wasn’t about to announce it in the terminal full of people. "I’m taller than a gorilla though." His voice was so loud that it nearly drowned out the intercoms. Everything he said came out like an announcement to the whole airport.

  "I know," I said, desperately wanting to say something intelligent. "Gorillas are usually between five and a half and six feet, so you aren’t really a gorilla-sized man or that would make you quite a bit shorter."

  "Smart girl!" He smiled, sipping straight from the bottle. "Yeah, I passed six feet a while ago."

  "I thought people stopped growing taller after a certain age."

  "Most people do." He laughed. "Have I got your curiosity piqued?"

  "Yes," I said. But I wasn’t stupid. Mom said he was doing drug testing on tigers and probably himself on some exotic
island. I doubt she really believed that or she would have forbidden me from going. He said he was working with drugs, mostly steroids and human growth hormone, and that’s probably why he had to be far away from countries that limited that sort of testing. I tried not to think about it in a wrong versus right kind of mindset. I wanted to think about it scientifically. After all, I was hoping to become a great scientist. I couldn’t let my mother’s conscience get in the way of learning.

  He and I didn’t talk to each other for a while. I glanced over each time he took a long drink and then I scratched my shoulder and shuffled my feet.

  "I would have been amazing you know," Richy stated, and only then did I notice he had the sports section of the newspaper in his hands. "I would have been the best ever!" He sighed and his breath ruffled the paper in his hands. "I wouldn’t have stopped at baseball though. I can run even better now than I could then and my arm is stronger. I haven’t touched a baseball in ages, but I know I could throw the fastest on record. I may not be considered to be in my prime by normal standards, but now I’d be amazing at football and rugby and hockey. Any sport really. I’d be amazing," he said, eating a bag of beef jerky. "If they hadn’t cut me, I would have been the best. Do you know why they cut me?"

  "Steroids?" Of course I knew. My mother talked about it like it was a bloodstain on the family record. I could only assume that Richy was getting drunk now that he'd finished most of his bottle of Absolut Vodka. I could only assume the sort of metabolism someone his size would have. I’d actually never been around someone while they were drunk. Richy’s words slurred together, but he was still pretty easy to understand.

  "Come on, think about it, when you think of steroids you think A-Rod, Mark McGwire, and Barry Bonds but get real, pretty much all players in the majors are juiced. They can’t kick everyone out. No, they cut me because I was better than they were. I was a better born athlete and I knew more about steroids than the lot of them. They cut me because I was the best. They cut me because I would have been first draft pick. They cut me because I made the sport ‘unfair’."

  "I think they also cut you because you were taking drugs," I interjected, talking quietly and hoping that if I spoke quietly, he would soften his voice a little. I was no expert on baseball but my dad said that less than half of the players were suspected of steroid use, not all of them.

  "Drugs. Yes, I was taking drugs. Everyone takes drugs you know. If you get a migraine headache, you’ll take drugs. When you were a baby I’m sure doctors injected you with drugs so you’d never get smallpox. Who’s to say which drugs are bad and which drugs are good? I suppose they say that if the outcome of the drug is good and beneficial to human life, then it’s a good drug. Well, Kathryn, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I’ve been proving that these drugs and others that I have developed are amazing for human life."

  He looked around as though he expected the other people in the terminal to be interested in his research. Maybe he thought some of them were listening intentionally and would steal his ideas. Whether because of embarrassment or privacy or the redness that I was sure was beginning to show in my cheeks, his cadence slowed and he turned the newspaper in his hand, getting ready to read again.

  "I will show you this week how drugs can make the evolutionary process meet our needs in our own lifetime. You’re in for the ride of your lifetime Kathryn! I promise you that."

  ***

  If I added up all the time I had spent traveling in my entire life, it would have been much, much less than the amount of travel time I had in the past 36 or so hours. I actually didn’t know how long I had been traveling because of the time change and the fact that my cell phone died soon after we left Honolulu, Hawaii. The term ‘jetlag’ wasn’t nearly strong enough to illustrate my fatigue. Not to mention that it didn’t even touch on the ‘boat lag’ and ‘layover lag’ and ‘driving lag,’ all of which were not to be underrated.

  Not even my flight to Panama compared to this.

  I was a disproportionate shadow to Richy as I followed his every step, often jogging to keep up. I didn’t ask any questions as we were waved onto a flight. I fought my drooping eyelids and snacked on the treats Richy had provided, less out of hunger and more of an attempt to stay conscious.

  When we landed in Madang, Papua New Guinea, I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming about landing, or if I was actually landing. I had tried my hardest but still, sleep hadn’t come on the plane because of nerves and turbulence. I’d passed through the tired phase of the trip and was stuck in the emotional part. I was overflowing with feelings—anxiety, fear, excitement, and apprehension. Maybe some of those were synonyms, but it didn’t matter. It just meant that I was feeling them doubly.

  My legs wobbled beneath me as I stepped out of the small plane into the sun. I squinted and took a deep breath of the hot, heavy, humid air. We’d been the only passengers on the small aircraft, and though I had stared out the window for the first part, even the beauty of the ocean bored me as I could see nothing else. Now that we landed and I massaged the kink in my neck, I looked around.

  We stood at the end of a dirt runway, tree stumps and tree segments scattered on either side giving the distinct impression that the runway was recently completed and made haphazardly by inexperienced hands.

  "Thanks again," Richy said, shaking hands with the pilot as he descended the few stairs. Even in my confused state I could easily see him hand-off a wad of cash. Surely the airfare alone for this trip was a fortune. Richy must have been trying very hard indeed to get on my mom’s good side since he’d paid for all the travel expenses.

  The pilot nodded, glanced at the bills, and then waved us off as he headed back down the runway the other way. As the roar of the engine died down in the distance, I heard a less familiar hum.

  "What’s that?" I asked Richy.

  "What?" he asked, walking faster towards a small van.

  "That hum in the air."

  "It’s bugs-" he said, and as if on cue two mosquitoes landed on my arm.

  "That’s a lot of bugs." I stepped in behind him. The two of us took up the entire backseat. For most of the trip I had been uncomfortably close to Richy, but now that we were getting into more unfamiliar territory, I was actually comforted by it.

  We drove to the coast, and I drifted off, dreaming of exotic insects, animals and plant life that awaited me at my uncle’s lab. My mind wandered to the expectations I had of my uncle; labs and vials, potential peace prizes, human beings strong enough to fight all diseases.

  I awoke as soon as the car stopped, my uncle stooped close to my face, grinning.

  "Get some rest?" he asked gently.

  "Yeah," I rubbed my eyes, resisting the urge to get a little farther from him.

  "So, there is one other detail that I didn’t cover with you about this trip."

  "Okay," I blinked, wishing to get outside and look around.

  "This facility, it’s really only for researchers and immediate family. And even immediate family is limited. You see where I am going here?" He cocked his head to the side and waited for me to reply.

  "Um, pretend we are immediate family?"

  "BINGO! Such a smart kid!" He said, touching my head as though I were much, much younger.

  "Have Crissa and Amanda ever come to-"

  "Nah, nah," he cut me off, very clearly unwilling to talk about his ex-wife and daughter. I didn’t mind ignoring the topic. I didn’t know Crissa very well because we hadn’t spoken or seen each other since they divorced, and even before that I think we only saw them three times. I had never really figured out how to interact with Amanda even as a child because I didn’t understand her…challenges. She had, well, no one really knew what she had. There was no official diagnosis. She didn’t really speak in words, and physically she was very…uneven. Parts of her body seemed to suffer from muscular dystrophy while other muscles grew strong and healthy. Sometimes she could walk, and other times she’d go months in a wheelchair.

  I remember ki
cking a ball back and forth with her a few years ago. She kicked the ball with her left foot and her leg wobbled around. She didn’t have great control over it. But when I kicked it to her right leg, she kicked the ball so far that it probably would have broken kickball records.

  Thinking about it made me feel guilty, as though my healthy mind and body were an insult to her disabilities. I was sure that now I was older I could be close to her, find activities that she would like and…..it was all ridiculous. I was going to college, something that she would have to pursue only in her dreams. Not because of her handicaps, but because of the cost. Richy wasn’t splurging on her education.

  Just mine.

  I didn’t have much time at all to think about her anymore, because Richy flung open the door and a rush of hot air swept in.

  Chapter Six: Kat’s Dad

  The ocean rippled like a precious stone with the way the sun sparkled off the wide, blue waves. From above it had seemed big and boring, but now, standing on the shore, it was enormous and fascinating. A crooked, wooden pier led out into the beautiful blue water and beside it, bobbing up and down was a small, wooden and metal boat holding two occupants. One man sat at the back, beside the motor.

  My eyes widened as I saw the second largest man of my life sitting in the small boat lifting his head in greeting to my uncle. I'd seen him before, only a few months prior. Now he was bigger, stronger, and more intimidating. His bald head and big build gave him away. It was Richy's business partner from the ice cream shop, Alec.

  Alec sat in the middle of the boat, avoiding either side as he would have tipped the boat over very easily. Next to him was a small, dark-skinned driver, not looking our way. I stretched my legs, unsure how long this ride would take, and gazed out at the soft waves rubbing and splashing against the shore.

  I wanted to pause and take in this moment. The water shone in so many blue, turquoise and green hues. I could have sworn there were colors there I hadn’t seen anywhere else. I would have probably stood still long enough to enjoy it more, but I was distracted by the mosquitoes that were landing at a rapid rate on my arms, legs and feet. I slapped at them, if only in jest, as more appeared. The driver of the boat said nothing as we boarded and I continued to swat and flick the insects away. "Alec," my uncle said and the beefy passenger, sun shining off his sweaty, bare head, looked up from a notebook. "You remember Kathryn."